


Song of the Season

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lazy late summer afternoon.</p>
<p>spoilers through 3x22 (“Goodbye”) - none for season four - I am spoiler-free, so please do not talk about anything upcoming in the comments</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song of the Season

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Song of the Season](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617815) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



A breeze ruffled the edges of the magazine Kurt had open in his lap and caught one trembling page, flipping it over to hide the incredible new Chanel spread he had been admiring. The wonderful shapes, rich fabrics, and glittering tights sparking his imagination were obscured by a fragrance ad of far less interest.

His contemplation of embroidered tweed and shredded chiffon interrupted, he slipped out of his reverie, turned the page back to his place, and breathed in as he flexed his toes against the firm fabric cushion of the big double lounge chair he was sharing with Blaine.

He liked his home better, with its comfortable atmosphere and open arms for his boyfriend as one of the family, but there were certain things about Blaine's house that he had to appreciate, not the least of which was the furniture. Sure, he loved that he and Blaine could be alone there on said furniture, but he also had to revel in spending time someplace that looked like it was right out of a catalogue, down to the roomy Restoration Hardware outdoor daybed the Andersons had placed out on the patio overlooking the lawn, immaculate plantings, and rest of the grouping of casual yet elegant lounge furniture.

It was as perfectly serene and lovely as a staged photo, except that it was even better to him, because it also came with company.

Kurt turned his gaze to the best thing in the yard: Blaine beside him. Kurt was sitting up against the comfortable back cushions, but Blaine was lying on his stomach, the last of his assigned summer reading propped up on the plump pillows, his chin resting on his hand and his bare feet kicked up into the air above him. He looked relaxed and comfortable, lost in his book and perfectly in place in his white polo and crisp shorts in the picture the yard painted of timeless affluence.

They'd both been outside enough over the summer that Blaine's skin had a beautiful warm glow in contrast with his pale shirt - Kurt just had collected a scattering of freckles that he had too little motivation to try to eradicate - and his hair had threads of a lovely lighter brown scattered throughout when the sun caught them just right. Kurt found himself wondering if Blaine would go grey that way, too, someday, a distinguished, well-distributed salt and pepper that would lend distinction to his classic sense of style.

Not that Blaine was anywhere near ready to go grey, yet. It was almost impossible to imagine him as anything but what he was. He was still a teenager, still young and strong, still full of life and energy, still full of ambition and promise. Even as he lay there reading, there was a vibrancy to him, to the way his eyes tracked across the words, the way his fingers stroked the pages as they turned them, the way his legs bounced in time to some internal song.

Kurt's eyes roved over him, from the perfect silhouette of his profile, down his well-proportioned shoulders and back to the shifting muscles of his legs, bared by his khaki shorts. He was undeniably attractive, all the more ridiculously so to Kurt because he knew the minute he caught Blaine's attention Blaine would smile at him with his whole, wonderful heart in his face for him. It was one of Kurt's favorite sights in the world, and his own heart thumped in his chest to know that that smile was _his_ , his whenever he wanted it, his and no one else's.

But even apart from that, Blaine was handsome, perfect, and so peaceful and close in this easy moment of intimacy, just the two of them together in the quiet yard. It was just them, so simple, special, and wonderful, a joy in itself. It was just Blaine next to him, with nowhere they had to be for hours, with the sun and the wind and the faint sounds of the neighborhood filtering through the hedges and trees all around them.

It was just this boy who was everything he wanted right there beside him, doing nothing but happily being his wonderful self and sharing the day with Kurt.

A part of Kurt wanted to reach out and touch, to capture this moment on the tips of his fingers and the curve of his lips, but he didn't. He stayed where he was. Blaine had work to do, and Kurt could look instead.

At least, he thought with a little smile as he turned back to his magazine, until Blaine finished his last two chapters.

Kurt sank back into the pillows and read a little more, his muscles relaxing and his eyelids drooping just a touch. He wasn't going to fall asleep, not when there was the looming threat of sunburn and missed time with Blaine, but he was so very comfortable, with beautiful things to look at in his magazine and just to his left, and he wasn't sure he felt like fighting the temptation to yawn if one threatened to overtake him.

The corner of his page fluttered again, and he caught it before it flipped and covered up the feature he was half-skimming. He kept his hand there as he reached out with his other for the glass of ice cold soda on the little table beside him and took a sip while he finished his scan of the article.

The breeze trying without success to disturb his reading and the careful line of his hair was still warm and soothing, its promise of lazy afternoons and slow kisses still a siren song of late summer, but there was just a tiny hint of a bite to it, a faint scent of something earthy and dry, that made Kurt lift his head again.

He knew that smell. It was football games and dry leaves crunching beneath his feet and catching in the tines of his rake. It was pumpkin lattes and mulled cider. It was the shift from sunshine yellow and bright, leafy green to fiery and fading oranges, reds, and muddy browns.

He knew that smell. It was autumn, creeping around the corner.

And with that tiny tease of scent, just the barest whisper on the wind, he realized that this would probably be one of the last nice weeks of shorts and sunshine before he would get to open up his closet and drawers and start settling into long sleeves and jackets and warmer scarves once more. Usually that would be exciting - and it was, because he had new pieces he longed to wear outside of the air conditioned sanctuary of his bedroom - but this year the idea of the approach of fall made his heart feel heavy with undeniable melancholy.

Kurt had been conditioned since preschool to equate the fall with new beginnings: new schedules and classes, new school clothes, new pencils and notebooks, new hallways to walk, new faces around him, the arrival of brisk autumn air heralding a clean, fresh, new start.

This fall was supposed to have been new to him, too, he thought as he stared off into nowhere, into his mind. He was supposed to have been packing up his things and taking them to New York to NYADA to embark upon one of the biggest new things he'd ever experience: his college career.

But he wasn't doing that.

He was here, in Lima, instead.

And while the best thing about that reality was lying right next to him, his nose not-quite-literally buried in a volume of James Joyce, he knew Blaine was going to get caught up in that new beginning of autumn in a way Kurt was not. Blaine still had new classes, new goals, a new year of competition with New Directions, and as Kurt sat there and looked at him with his heart full from being beside him he suddenly felt so much older than the months that separated them. He felt as old as the hills, as old as the stars, in comparison.

Blaine had this year of promise, his senior year, his pathway to college, ahead of him, and now that their summer together was almost over Kurt just had… everything. And he had everything not in the same delightful way he'd felt at graduation, where he had so many dreams he was ready to achieve once he walked across that stage; instead he had all of his life reaching out for decades before him with no road map, no simple path, no clearly defined year or four of tests and performances with a diploma and a sense of accomplishment at the end.

Kurt just had _everything_ ahead of him: every choice, every path, every dead-end job, every wrong turn, every life that ended without him achieving everything - or anything - he wanted to.

He had all of the rest, too, if he could manage them: all of the things he ever dreamed of doing… but he could see now just as easily as he'd unfolded that NYADA letter and heard that door slam in his face that with each step he took, each choice he made, other doors were going to close, too.

That was okay, he told himself again, as he did every time he felt that threat of panic, sadness, and frustration start to rise in his throat. That was growing up. That could still be a wonderful life, because he would work hard and harder and would accept nothing less.

And yet it was still a future of doors closing, and he would never take that lightly. He had to shove his foot forward more firmly and faster to stop the rest of them from slamming where he could.

It wasn't going to be easy. But when, even when it had felt like his life was crumbling around him, had that stopped him before?

He glanced back at the spread on his lap with a sigh, and Blaine stirred a little, dropping his feet back to the pale canvas cushion beneath them both. He glanced over and rolled his head on his hand toward him, his smile already forming before his eyes met Kurt's.

"How's your reading?" Kurt asked, the corners of his own mouth lifting in unconscious response.

"Slow but good," Blaine replied. "I'm just glad it's not _Ulysses_. I remember Wes nearly losing his mind over that in his senior lit class." He nodded his head toward Kurt's magazine. "How about you?"

"Lagerfeld's 'New Vintage' is inspiring," Kurt said.

Blaine leaned closer, looking at the pages draped over Kurt's legs like he didn't notice just how close his face was getting to certain other parts of Kurt's body (which were covered by the magazine, thank goodness, so any reaction they might have would at least be hidden). "The way he is using patchwork is really interesting."

"And I like the idea of revisiting classic Chanel," Kurt said with a nod. "It's classic for a reason. Though I'm still not sure about the tights." He nudged at Blaine's warm leg with his bare toes and left them there, pressing a little into the solid comfort of muscle and skin he knew almost as well as his own. "But no fashion talk until your homework is done. You know the rule."

"It's _your_ rule," Blaine protested. "It's for you. I don't get as distracted as you do."

"Still." Kurt closed the magazine and put it on the far side of him. "I don't want to stop you from finishing your reading."

Blaine rolled his neck and let himself collapse fully onto the cushion, his head pillowed on his arms and still turned toward Kurt. "I think I need a break, actually. It's giving me a headache."

Happy to leave his thoughts behind for a little while longer, Kurt scooted down a few inches and rolled onto his side, reaching out for him with one hand. He smiled when Blaine's eyes drifted shut as Kurt's fingers rubbed over the pulse point at his temple.

"That feels so good," Blaine murmured, his body melting down into the lounger with relief as Kurt massaged the ache away, working gently at the pounding heat of his pulse for a little while before stroking along Blaine's hairline and pressing just the tips of his fingers beyond into his hair and the scalp beneath, careful not to disturb the styling too much with his movements. Blaine was almost as particular about such things as he was. "Thank you."

"Shh, you're welcome," Kurt told him, watching with pleasure as Blaine's face softened and his breathing hitched when Kurt went back to the pressure point and rubbed small circles into the smooth skin there until the last line of tension between Blaine's brows disappeared. Then and only then did he let himself indulge himself, drawing his fingers down Blaine's cheek, along the hint of stubble at the line of his jaw, and past the corner of his soft lips and along the sweet dip of the upper one, before letting his hand settle on Blaine's shoulder with his fingers resting against the fine hair at the back of Blaine's sun-warmed neck.

Kurt found himself smiling a little more. He had a million things he wanted to do with his life, but one of them was getting to look at and touch Blaine, and today he could. Whatever happened tomorrow, whatever doors he chose to walk through, today in this warm, wonderful moment under the summer sun he could.

Blaine cracked an eye and smiled back when he saw Kurt's expression. "I'm going to miss these long afternoons alone when school starts," he said, stretching out his legs a little more. "I've gotten used to them."

"Me, too," Kurt replied a bit sadly, though he'd never taken them for granted. He'd always expected to miss them. He'd always thought it would be hard for this summer to be over and them not to go back to school together. He wasn't surprised he was melancholy about it.

Except it was different, he realized, because in his plans for the future he'd thought he'd been the one going away. But now it was Blaine who was going to be swept back up in the steady current of school carrying him toward his future while Kurt tried to figure out his own unknown path forward. He was going to be left behind if he didn't keep pushing ahead.

Which of course he was, he reminded himself with an internal roll of his eyes. He would figure it out. He just wasn't going to do it today, that was all, not when he had better things to do.

So he slid down a little more so that their heads were level, and he opened his arms as Blaine eased over into his embrace and tipped his face toward his so perfectly, like he had been made to fit against him.

Blaine's mouth was warm, his lips a little dry, the scent of his skin tinged in the best way with a wisp of sweat from being outside in the heat of the day, and Kurt closed his eyes and kissed him back, gently, lovingly, a deliberate press and retreat of lips and tongues, intimate and personal without being too heated.

He'd never told Blaine - or anyone - but it was Kurt's favorite way to kiss, that kind of intense, dreamy closeness. He loved the easy comfort of a quick peck, and he would never not be turned on by the way Blaine panted and moaned against his mouth when he was too close to coming to remember how to kiss at all, but this was his favorite, this is what he daydreamed of most of all, this is what he would miss the most sharply if he couldn't reach out and touch Blaine nearly as often as he wanted. He'd certainly miss Blaine's talented hands and mouth on his body, he'd miss the way Blaine heated and moved under his own touch, and he'd miss the contentment of linking their fingers under the table and bumping shoulders at the kitchen sink, but the thing he'd ache for the most would be just being there with each other, breathing each other's air, lying in each other's arms, knowing each other's mouths, holding each other close.

It was just what he wanted, to be loved and to love, to be held and to hold, to fit together with someone, and in those moments of connection he felt everything so strongly he wondered if his heart could crack from joy just as readily as sorrow.

It was as easy as breathing to sink into the give and take of kissing Blaine, of pressing close against his body, of chasing the touch of his mouth, of drawing out each kiss, each caress of Blaine's back, side, or face until he was trembling with the rightness of it. It took no effort at all to live in that slow, lush, languid exploration, the familiar stroke of Blaine's tongue against his or hand on his body sending endless shivers up his spine, and yet it was soothing to have it, to be there with him, to know what to expect not in terms of the specific path of his movements but of the generosity, joy, and gratitude that accompanied and powered them.

"Love you," Blaine whispered against his lips, his hand sliding to cup the back of Kurt's head with a tender possessiveness that always made Kurt's toes curl.

Kurt's reply was a breathy sigh of agreement, his heart thundering with the way Blaine's fingers were warm in his hair, keeping him close. He fisted his hand in the back of Blaine's shirt, shifting a leg forward and sliding it to slip between Blaine's.

"Mmm." Blaine kissed him a little harder, his thumb rubbing a distracting pattern behind Kurt's ear, and Kurt had to kiss him back just as hard, his arm tightening around him.

Time spun out around them, and Blaine's soft noises of pleasure became deeper, rougher. Kurt inhaled through his nose and felt his heart jump in his chest as Blaine's hand slid even lower and tugged him in at the small of his back with an assumption that was more hopeful than insistent and that made Kurt's stomach turn liquid with desire, because he loved that Blaine wanted him so openly and knew Kurt wanted him in return.

Kurt went willingly, pressing his erection against Blaine's for a long, luxurious, desperate moment, opening his mouth wider to Blaine's fervent kisses, and letting his head fall back into the cradle of Blaine's hand when it returned to his hair to keep him near.

"Kurt," Blaine said with something like wonder or awe, his lips trailing down to Kurt's throat. He shifted up on his elbow, staying close as he pressed Kurt onto his back and half-draped himself over him.

"God, Blaine." His chest heaving, Kurt met Blaine's eyes, saw love and desire in them, and managed a wobbling smile even as his hands kneaded at the fabric covering Blaine's shoulders, wanting it off, wanting nothing between them, because there was no such thing as close enough when it came to how near he wanted Blaine. He wanted him against his body without the barriers that he was only ever eager to shed with Blaine, but Kurt also wanted him tucked impossibly inside, curled up safe and tight in the very depths of his heart.

Blaine watched him with a dark intensity for a breathless few seconds before he smiled, too, turning from hungry to young and happy. He leaned in to kiss Kurt more softly, a sweet press of the lips. "Do you want," he asked, toying a little with the top button of Kurt's shirt, "to go inside? It'll be cooler."

Kurt thought with interest of the cool expanse of Blaine's sheets and the box of supplies in his nightstand and all of the options it gave them, but he also thought of the mechanical hum of the air conditioning, the unwavering light coming from the lamps, and the ever-present smell of laundry detergent and Blaine surrounding them. It was hard to think of leaving the leaf-filtered glow of the sun and the soundtrack of birds and whirring white noise of distant lawn sprinklers for that relative sterility.

"We don't have to do anything," Blaine said. He lifted his hand from Kurt's shirt and cupped his cheek instead. "That's okay. I don't want to push you or - "

"Blaine," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. He gave his boyfriend a gentle push on the shoulder, and Blaine turned onto his back, looking surprised when Kurt followed, crowding up against him and kissing him long and hard, not holding back just how badly he wanted to be there doing it. His blood was racing in his veins, every beat of his heart murmuring Blaine's name, and he kissed and kissed him until Blaine was all but whimpering, his fingers tangled in Kurt's hair, and Kurt's skin itched with how much he wanted to be touched.

"The only thing I don't want right now," Kurt said with a husky sureness, "is to go inside."

He watched Blaine swallow, the muscles of his lovely throat working a few times before any sound came out. "Okay," Blaine said.

"So, the question is whether you're in the mood to try to be quiet." Kurt tilted his head to the side and trailed his fingers down Blaine's chest to rest on the fly of his shorts. He could feel the thickness of Blaine's erection twitch beneath his palm.

Blaine's eyes widened first with surprise and then utter elation the same way they always did when Kurt touched him, and he nodded quickly. "I can do that. I can try. I want to try."

"Good." Kurt grinned at him in anticipation and flicked open the button. It wasn't a field of flowers, but the private oasis of the yard was more than good enough for him. For them.

Blaine wasn't silent - Kurt wasn't sure he ever could be - but the gasps, groans, and pleading murmurs of Kurt's name were quiet enough that they didn't travel far beyond the cushion they shared, and Kurt wasn't so cruel as to tease him for long with fingers and tongue before taking him fully into his mouth. He breathed through his nose, inhaling the scents of cut grass, flowers, and Blaine, and watched with a fierce, almost painful sense of satisfaction as Blaine's expressive face went tight and slack and desperate in turns.

Blaine's hand cupped his cheek with such tenderness as Kurt used every trick he'd learned with him to work him right up to the edge of his orgasm. His own arousal surged with each caress, each moan, each wondering blink of Blaine's eyes. And when Blaine was shuddering, his hips twitching under Kurt's steadying hands, Kurt closed his own eyes and let himself memorize the moment, the taste and feel of Blaine thick and hot on his tongue, the smell of his sweat, the way the edge of Blaine's open fly tickled his throat when he brushed it, the soft, caring, careful touch of Blaine's fingers on his skin and hair. He took it all into his heart and tucked it away carefully and then gave Blaine just what he needed to let go.

Kurt had barely sat up on his knees again, discreetly wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist for lack of a better option, when Blaine was on him, kissing him with more fervor than the tremors of his orgasm still running through him might have been expected to allow.

"I - " Kurt started when he was able to draw a breath, but then Blaine's mouth was back on his, his tongue stroking inside eagerly, and Kurt found himself on his own back with Blaine's hands on his shorts and pushing up his shirt to get to his stomach as Blaine's lips trailed down his throat and - " _Blaine_."

"My turn," Blaine told him, his fingers working fast on Kurt's fly.

"I - " Kurt started again, though he wasn't fighting at all, and he lifted his hips as Blaine tugged his shorts and underwear down his thighs.

Blaine got his hand around Kurt's erection, the suddenness and tightness of the touch making Kurt arch up off the cushion, his head spinning as the blood drained from it in a rush. Blaine smoothed his other hand up Kurt's chest, urging him back down, and kissed at Kurt's hip.

"You are incredible. And really hot. And I really, really want my turn now," Blaine said, and then it was Kurt who was straining to keep quiet as Blaine licked up his length and sucked him in.

It was hard to be silent when all he wanted to do was let everything out, every single thing that Blaine made him feel, all of the pleasure, all of the unqualified acceptance, all of the love. But instead Kurt curled his fingers in Blaine's hair, bit his lip, and let Blaine tenderly, thoroughly, and very, very skillfully take him apart with his wonderful mouth and hands while the sound of Kurt's blood rushing through his ears blended into the insistent buzz of the honeybees in the flowerbed nearby.

It didn’t take long for him fall apart entirely, but he didn’t care too much, because it was Blaine, who knew just what he liked and gave it to him, every time. It was hard to be ashamed of giving himself over to it, because if he ever was going to lose himself it would be in Blaine.

"Oh, god," Kurt said weakly when he had collapsed back against the cushions once more. He could still feel the ghost of Blaine's tongue flexing against him, and even the memory was enough to keep the aftershocks shivering through him. He tried to hold that in his heart, too, through its pounding, but it was hard to do more than feel it.

His fingers petted a shaky rhythm through Blaine's hair and down his arm as Blaine carefully put their clothing back more or less to rights. Kurt felt limp and helpless as he trembled and tried to remember how to breathe.

"I love you," Blaine told him in a drowsy, delighted murmur, curling around him and pressing his mouth to Kurt's jaw as he went boneless against him.

The vulnerability Kurt felt in the aftermath of his orgasm faded as he pressed his cheek against Blaine's hair and relaxed under the weight of his arm across his stomach. Sometimes when they weren't together he wondered at his boldness, his openness, but he never doubted it for a second when it was just the two of them. It was the rightest thing in the world. "I love you, too."

Blaine rubbed his head against Kurt's shoulder, finding the most comfortable spot. "I know," he said, and he sounded so happy that Kurt's heart leapt in his chest.

It all felt so right to Kurt, everything between them, and he didn't want to think of anything else. He wanted to stay in this moment for as long as he could, wrapped in this wonderful boy who loved every bit of him, even his flaws and faults, who supported his dreams and who let Kurt into his own heart without hesitation, without reservation, without anything but joy.

It was everything Kurt wanted.

No, not _everything_ , not even close to everything when his list of goals was miles long, but he wasn't going to think about the rest of his life when he was here right now with this perfect, caring person who loved him.

Kurt could feel Blaine's breath growing slower where it fanned against his throat, but as tempting as it was he didn't let himself fall into the same sleepy rhythm. He didn't want to lose the rest of the afternoon to a post-orgasmic nap, as much as he would have liked it. It seemed like a waste of the day. Blaine could sleep in the safe haven of his arms, but Kurt wanted to be awake to enjoy it.

So he dragged open his eyes again to take in the dark curls of Blaine's hair, the sweep of his cheek, and his lovely arm tight across Kurt's stomach. He let himself linger over the enticing contrast between Blaine's skin and his shirt, the way the scattering of dark hair on Blaine's arms made Kurt that much more aware of how male and real he was, and the spicy scent of sex on them both. He felt his heart clench and release at the press of Blaine's legs tangled with his, the easy way Blaine's nose rested against his throat, and the soft drumming of Blaine's heartbeat beneath his hands.

The flutter of a leaf at the edge of his vision caught Kurt's attention. It was still green but a little flat and dry, like it was just starting to pull in for the season in a prelude to donning its autumn finery.

Kurt watched it dance in the wind for a long, melancholy moment. Then he looked away, kissed Blaine's hair, and smiled to himself at Blaine's happy murmur and tightening of his arm in return.

There was the sound of a laughing child from far away, the rumble of a truck on a distant street, and the rustle of the wind blowing through the trees. There was the sweet smell of nearby flowers and the soda beside him. There was the warm glow of the sun on his skin, quite probably bringing out more freckles that he’d have to deal with at some point.

And on the breeze there was that tiny hint of the seasons getting ready to change, not quite yet but soon. Soon.

With another kiss to his boyfriend's head, Kurt shut his eyes again and let himself drift, just a little, wrapped up so thoroughly and contentedly in Blaine. He wouldn't sleep, but he could fall into a light doze for a while as he soaked Blaine's closeness into the very marrow of his bones.

It wouldn't be summer for long - the world moved ever onward around the sun, and there was no stopping it - but while it was Kurt couldn't think of any other way he would rather spend this kind of afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> I AM ALMOST ENTIRELY UNSPOILED FOR SEASON FOUR OF GLEE AND DESPERATELY WANT TO REMAIN THAT WAY. I don't care what you think everyone in the world knows. I DO NOT KNOW IT. I DO NOT WANT TO. PLEASE, for the love of all that is joyful in fandom, do not spoil me. Don't tell me that you're not telling me spoilers. Don't even tell me that there ARE spoilers.


End file.
